


EASE

by smolppstitsucker



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Kim Doyoung is a soft shit, Lee Taeyong Needs a Hug, Lee Taeyong-centric, M/M, Mentioned Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Soft Lee Taeyong, Soft Nakamoto Yuta, but it gets better, does it though?, idolverse, other nct members are mentioned, this is me projecting my three personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolppstitsucker/pseuds/smolppstitsucker
Summary: "You see these cherry blossoms, these are for you. Everything is for you. All the songs, about you. And now you know, don't you? You were so hell-bent on finding out why. And now you know–you know why. Everything. Is. Always. About. You. And i can't even blame you for not noticing. God fucking dammit."(or, Taeyong visits a gay bar and his photos get leaked. Cue sadness, trauma, heartache, and a manager who's done with him.)
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 22
Kudos: 81





	1. I'm down to my skin and bone

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first? fanfic? ever? please don't hate me if it sucks. title from Troye Sivan's Ease. You'll know why. 
> 
> This is unedited and unbetaed. Why? because i am an absolute loser.

1\. 

It takes Miya seven days to realise that Lee Taeyong is in love with Nakamoto Yuta. It's funny, almost. Miya is not perceptive, if she was she would actually have a good relationship with her parents and a friend other than her boss. She isn't emotional or empathetic either, when it comes to people besides herself. One time when she was in school and a classmate had fallen off the balcony, all she'd done was stare. Everyone had been perpetually horrified, scared, or alarmed and she had just stared. She isn't really proud of this, though. She's drawn a distinct amount of flak when she has failed to express the right emotion at the right place or understand the other person. So, yeah. It's a bit of a surprise that she can see Lee Taeyong being in love with Nakamoto Yuta, with how dense she can be, and how great Taeyong is at hiding things.

2.

The mess starts in November when Taeyong is preparing to release his solo. Cherry Blossoms under My Bed is almost done, and the hype surrounding it is huge, and Taeyong 's bones are on the verge of breaking and his voice is almost hoarse. He is a nervous wreck because he's the first one from his whole 23 member band to have a solo, and SM is counting on him to actually make it big. He is supposed to shoot his last music video in a few days, and that is when he, for the lack of a better word, fucks up. 

The Eve is one of the poshest gay bars in Itaewon, and one night of peace isn't going to be a huge deal anyway. He doesn't plan to do anything anyway, a few drinks, a little brooding, and that's it. Hookups are out of the question anyway. Last time he had moaned a certain Japanese weeb's name, and it wasn't really pleasant after that. He had been lucky that he wasn't left in bed with a raging boner. So he does just that, he drinks to his own solo, thinks about Nakamoto Yuta's hips, then drunk dials Doyoung and gets yelled at for being so reckless and laughs a little when the other grumbles and agrees to come and pick him up. Of course he doesn't notice the gaping teenager two tables away with his iphone camera pointed at his face. Of course when he cries into Doyoung 's shoulder while the latter kisses his hair and says "Taeyongie hyung, you need to stop doing this to yourself", and he replies, "so what do I do? tell him? tell the kids? what do I do?" to shut his best friend up, he doesn't see the storm coming.

....

The pictures get leaked and start trending on Pann. "NCT leader Lee Taeyong spotted at a gay bar" is solid viral post material. The backlash, as predicted, is huge. Apparently 16 year old fangirls who buy his albums also see him as a potential boyfriend, and it is not really convenient when the potential boyfriend is a professional dick-enjoyer. It is also pretty hellish when the entire country is not very welcoming of homosexuality as a concept, much less its idols. He is summoned to the CEO's office and faces a thorough rebuking because of his carelessness and he is grateful that his bosses are not outright homophobes, because that would surely not have been pretty, given the current situation. He tells himself that his agency is doing its best and that everything would be over in the blink of an eye and normalcy would be reinstated. He tells himself that life's shit and there will be flies and he is not exactly in the position to flush the shit down and be done with it, so he'd have to suck it up like the one thousand other things he already has this year. He is SM Entertainment's punching bag, antis' designated annual target and he has been dragged through the mud so many times he might as well get a bullseye tattooed on his forehead. He tells himself that everything would be fine, because everything always is fine. Everything. Is. Always. Fucking. Perfect. 

And yet, he ends up having panic attacks and does not go back to the dorms. He knows this isn't healthy, and he should probably provide them a better explanation than the "Shit got fucked up again", that he threw at Johnny on Kakao before resolutely disappearing from their lives for a few days, but in his apartment in the far end of Seoul, all that he can think of is how Yuta would react. He has never come out to the group, at least formally. Ten knows, of course, they had hooked up in their trainee days and had occasionally lent each other gratuitous blowjobs when the other was horny, Mark had probably figured it out what with their horny songwriting sessions and Johnny had found him intensely staring at Park Chanyeol's pecs and had offered him a sly smile, and of course there was Doyoung. Doyoung, his best friend. Doyoung, who had been the first person he's told that he liked men, word for word. Doyoung, who had held his hand when he had sobbed the first time after Yuta had brought a girl back to the dorms. Doyoung, with all his doting and nagging, who had picked him up from bars and managed to washi tape his heart into something tangible, there had always been Doyoung. 

But he had never told Yuta. Yuta has a strange existence, almost floating between presence and absence. He is there and then he isn't. Nothing about him is permanent and yet everything is. Yuta is the farthest thing from quiet but he isn't loud either. Taeyong does not remember what made him fall for Yuta . He finds it strange that others do. He remembers Mark telling him about his first love and how he had fallen for her the moment she had laughed at his lamest joke. He remembers Mark remembering every little moment but Taeyong does not. Taeyong does not know when he fell for Nakamoto Yuta. Taeyong does not even remember having the earth shaking realisation that he was in love with Yuta. He remembers being in love with Yuta, though. He remembers wanting to run his hand through Yuta's hair and brush his nose against it, he remembers wanting to rub Yuta's swollen feet, he remembers wanting to kiss Yuta's lips and he remembers wanting to run his hands on Yuta's chest and he remembers loving Yuta. Yuta smoking in the dorm bathroom at 2 am, telling Taeyong about a book he picked up at random and now can't let go of. Yuta crying bitterly after his sister got diagnosed with cancer in the hotel lounge in America. Taeyong was there. Holding Yuta. Yuta had fallen asleep in his arms and the next morning, had bought him ice cream as repayment. Yuta laughing so hard on the floor when Mark had freaked out when he had read a fanfic about himself and the former (Jaehyun, that little shit, he'd sent that damned ao3 link). Yuta who hugged Taeyong too little for the latter to hug himself and pretend that it was the other. Yuta, about whom every single line in Cherry Blossoms under my Bed was for. Yuta, about whom Taeyong had written, "i wish you could sucker punch me in the gut, I'd finally spit out blood instead of love". It was always about Yuta. It was always about Yuta, who didn't even know that when Taeyong said he had never had a crush on a girl at school, he meant he had sucked off a boy in the last stall in the boys toilet, that the same boy had refused to recognise him the next day. It was always about Yuta who didn't fucking know.

And as Taeyong chews on his dinner, he thinks that it's better this way. Everything would be fine again anyway. It always is.

3\. 

"You will be managing Lee Taeyong from now on"

"What?"

Miya feels like someone has roundhouse kicked her in the face. She had been roundhouse kicked in the face once by her Dad. This seriously does not feel like paternal rage, but it does feel like a foot to the face when you're not a toe-sucker. 

"Miya, you will be acting as Lee Taeyong's personal manager."

"I can hear you. I think you forgot I work in PR."

"You have worked as a manager before, Miya, stop acting like I asked you to suck his dick."

Now Miya feels like roundhouse kicking Kim Jihan in the face. She is sure he has never been kicked in the face, and today seems like a good day to make him taste the thunder for once. However, Jihan, the bane of her existence, her only friend is also the CEO of SM Entertainment, and a kick in the face can also result in her getting kicked out for good. Jihan puts up with most of her bullshit, but a broken nose sounds like a stretch. 

"That was years ago, Jihan."

"You managed EXO when Kris did the vanishing trick."

"And I had sworn that that would be the last time I would manage someone. Do you know what hell Mr. Lee put me through? I had to handle eleven crying boys and I was barely a few years older than Junmyeon. I am not going to do this no matter what you tell me."

"You're going to manage one member, not an entire group Miya."

Miya holds back a deep sigh and grits out, "You think I don't keep up with the tabloids? That kid's just had a scandal and you are trying your best to cover it up. I just saw the Dispatch executive walk out of your office with a nasty fucking smirk. I am not going to babysit another traumatised child all over again."

"You're 34 Miya."

"I had absolutely forgotten that, thank you, that just proves that you should not be contributing to my approaching midlife crisis."

Jihan lets out a deep sigh, and looks her in the eye. 

"I will be paying you double. And that paid vacation you've been whining about."

"N-"

"Just until his album is released, then we hire someone new. You're the perfect candidate. You worked in PR, you worked as Taemin's PR manager, you handled goddamn EXO. You know crisis management and how post scandal idols react, you have been in this industry for so many years--"

"Fine. Stop flattering me. You know I hate it."

She knows she is going to regret this, but her apartment could do with some renovations, and a paid vacation to Paris doesn't sound too bad. 

......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi so I have a youtube channel where I post video edits, please check them out please please please.
> 
> [Link!](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCDEKPt8CBEclUJqrb3BCQBQ)


	2. I think I've seen this film before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, I had hoped I would finish this monster today, but hey, I didn't. Because I am a rat. This is going to get 2 more chapters, which I will update soon.
> 
> Also? Make a wish performance? goddamn. 
> 
> Anyway, read, and please don't hate me. YUTA WILL MAKE HIS APPEARANCE SOON, my precious spawns. 
> 
> title from taylor swift's exile.

1.

She regrets it. 

Lee Taeyong is the type of idol she had hoped and prayed she would never have to work with again. He is the emotionally constipated kind. He is the kind that has almost a toothpaste commercial grin plastered on the face all the time that at some point, he starts resembling Pennywise. The kind that tries his best to maintain this facade of normalcy when nothing is remotely is, and then punch himself in the nose when he feels like he is losing his composure. The borderline paranoid kind. Her brother had been like this. He'd hit himself with a steel rod once when he could not make it to the final lineup of a now-flourishing idol group. He is dead now, though. It's been 750 days. It feels kind of unfair, though. 22 years of memories replaced by a bloated body in the Han River. It is very unfair, so she does not think about him. 

And Lee Taeyong, SM Entertainment's resident archery board, a walking trigger for her, has the same coping mechanisms. He is immaculate in what he does. Always compliant, always obedient, always considerate. Doing everything perfectly, mechanically, almost on autopilot. And yet, she sees through it all, and she hates it. Miya, despite being on the receiving end of a lot of flak, has always profited from her lack of perceptiveness, her apathy, her disinterest in people. It has managed to keep her safe through all these years of batshit crazy stuff that she recalls only after getting high on her bed at 1 am. Not noticing means hours of extra brainwork conserved and not noticing means not feeling like shit after saying things that need to be said. But, here, this time, she does. She notices the slowly slipping mask of wary cheerfulness, she notices the chewed fingernails and the tired empty eyes and carefully concealed fear. And it feels like someone is gauging her eyeballs out and smearing them with wasabi because she has seen all of this before. She has seen the quietness, the withdrawal into one tiny bubble of loneliness that people stop noticing you altogether before, and she hates it. Because everytime she looks at Taeyong she is reminded of her brother and the river and the police sirens and the closed casket funeral. The last time she had seen these things, her brother was 22. The last time she had not noticed, her brother was gone.

So when she finds Taeyong walking out of the dressing room, rubbing his eyes aggressively like a child to stop himself from crying, she feels the distinct urge to pull back, go to Jihan, hit him with that one horrible looking vase he has with his stepmom's face engraved on it and ask him to find someone else who would be fit for this and god, Miya has never had a savior complex, and all she knows is that this is a terrible character development, and yet, despite all of this, she decides to stay, and ask.

2.

As Taeyong sits in the car, he finds himself talking about his album to his manager about his album. 

__

_"So, what is your album about?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"You know, I have been around for nearly five days, and I know jackshit about you. I mean, I know your schedules and your appointments and the other formal shit, but I am supposed to manage you till your album is released and I do not know one thing about it."_

_"They did not tell you at the company?"_

_"They told me the stuff that you are supposed to say in the interviews. It literally tells me nothing about your album."_

_"Well I am trying to show this new side of myself-"_

_"I am not your Dispatch interviewer. Do not give me that regurgitated crap. You're not a fucking polygon, 'I am going to show a new side to myself'.' "_

_"B-but,"_

_Taeyong hears himself stutter. He is intimidated by her, of course. Miya always wears that deeply unimpressed look on his face, an intersection of the expression one would make after finding out that someone had pissed in their cereal, and the "you are wasting so much of my limited time" face, and till this moment, till a few hours ago, she had asked him short, precise questions that did not need elaboration. He had overheard her yell at Mr Kim that she would break his lamp on his head, and if that wasn't concerning enough--_

_'Listen, kid, I have seen thousands of solo albums being released every single year, and almost 95% of them tell this. They are, apparently, trying to show a new side to their personalities, when instead, they are just following the concept that the old men at the company have decided for them. Wearing black clothes and wearing purple eyeshadow is supposed to unleash their sexy side and singing about girls they are not allowed to meet is supposed to show their romantic side. Sides, sides, sides. You, kid, on the other hand, have creative liberty on this album. You have written every single one of these tracks, from what I have heard. Tell me what it's really about, I am not going you to give you popularity points here, and neither am I your fan. Tell me why I should listen to it. "_

_"You know, you would make a pretty good CEO."_

_"I am glad you think so, but I was thinking along the lines of your neighborhood uncle. Now tell me what your album is about."_

__

He looks at her face, and she offers him a little grin. And he tells her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll update soon.
> 
> Also, do check out user puppyeolie's fanfics. She writes awesome nomin and sechan content. 
> 
> Have a good day, or night.


	3. I'm wrapped in cellophane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im back. with more angst.
> 
> title from cellophane by FKA twigs

It's the oldest story in the world, you know, the most clichéd. I wish I had a more interesting story, some epiphany, some weird mindfuck realisation on top of a mountain, but there isn't. I-i fell in love."

He stares at Miya, hoping to see disinterest, but she is looking at him with the same unreadable eyes, so he continues.

"I fell in love–in love with this–this person, who didn't love me back. There's nothing special about my love story, if you call this a story at all. I don't even remember when it was that I fell for h–the person. We didn't have any epic moments, just–just memories, so many of them and h–this person–"

"You can say 'him', Taeyong."

He looks at her and smiles.

"Ah yes, sometimes I forget that I accidentally decided to broadcast my sexuality to the whole nation. But you know what, though, it's funny. My sexuality, my coming out, it was supposed to be mine. It was supposed to be my own choice. The right moment, my words. It was supposed to be something that I was supposed to have. Instead, a few stupid pictures on the internet opened this–this small window that I would have liked to keep closed for a few years to keep myself safe. It felt like someone had ripped this small part of me and chewed onto it and spat it onto the floor. And then, they decided to erase everything and i read the comments and the world was relieved, it seemed. Thank God, not another homosexual. Thank God, he isn't a cocksucker. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. As if I am not a real person. Thank fucking God, of course. I should feel safe, but I don't. I don't. I–"

He feels his mouth taste bitter, hellishly bitter. He bites the inside of his cheek, because there's this pain in his chest that feels like an almost welled up water pitcher. One drop and everything would drown. He draws in a sharp breath.

"Anyway, as I was saying, i was in love. am, in love. with this man, this boy. And of course, he doesn't love me back. Its the oldest story in the world, you fall for someone, and then you watch them slip through your fingers and you can't do anything. Everyone has that one person. You know, it's so easy to love someone when they aren't loved. But he finds people to love him so easily. Everyone has this one point of time, when they have the comfort of telling themselves, that they can do better for the people they love. I can never do better for him. What would I give him? Its so terribly clichéd, the sad artist trope where he writes an album lamenting on how he has a broken heart. There's nothing special about this album. I didn't write this album so that it resonates with people who listen to it. I wrote this to tell myself that this. This is going to be my life. That I will have to see him kiss a girl and Pavlov myself into not flinching. Its so terribly clichéd, isn't it? every song is about him. about the idea of us that exists only in my head, and nowhere else. That I'll have to be his friend all my life. Thats why the cherry blossoms are under my bed. I will never be able to sleep with them touching me. I will never, never be able to –"

He feels warm tears roll down his cheeks and he pushes his head back on the headrest and closes his eyes. The last thing he remembers before dozing off is a coarse hand crawling into his own loosely balled fist. He thinks she understands. 

.....

The artist paints cherry blossoms on his chest, as he stares at himself in the mirror. They climb up his neck and split at his chin, forming a thin line on either side of his face. He remembers the endless meetings with the creative team and Hana, discussing every little thing they wanted to do for the title track. When he'd said that he wanted the music video to be an exact reflection of what the song was, she had smiled at him and said that she would cover him in cherry blossoms. He had laughed, but she and her designers had come up with a look that exactly embodied what he wanted his song to be, he'd realised that she was not kidding. He watches himself as the stylist places a glassy halo crown fitted with pink roses on the underside on his head, and he feels pretty. The glitter tears on his face and his pink streaked chalky hair and the white mesh shirt with the tiny pink frills make him feel pretty. Pretty. Pretty. Pretty. He remembers being called pretty boy when he was a trainee. The pretty boy that tries to dance. The pretty boy that would make it because he is pretty. Pretty boy with pretty privileges. He wanted to take off his skin and break his own jaw and reconstruct it into the ugliest shape they had ever seen. Pretty boy ugly boy pretty ugly boy. He hated it with his bones. 

And then they'd had that conversation. 

__

_"Do you ever hate anything about yourself?", Yuta had asked him, their backs pressed to the mirrored wall of the dance studio._

_"I am a teenager, why wouldn't I?"_

_"What do you hate about yourself?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"You said you do, what is it?"_

_"Why are you asking this?"_

_"Taeyong why do I have to play 20 questions with you to get an answer?"_

_He'd laughed a little, and touched his face._

_"This. I hate my face. I can't stand it. I hate my face. So much."_

_And as Yuta had stared at him in disbelief, he had continued, "They always call me pretty boy here. Pretty Boy. Pretty Boy with his pretty privilege. Pretty boy--"_

_"They call me pretty boy too, you know."_

_Now it was Taeyong's turn to look shocked._

_"You don't--I don't know, hate it?"_

_"What? being called pretty? I won't say I think it is the best compliment I have ever received, but it is pretty flattering, yeah."_

_"I just hate it. I hate it so much. Always. The damn name follows me around like a goddamned shadow and I want to tell them that I'm not a useless pretty boy. I want to yell at them that I am not a useless pretty boy."_

_"Then tell them. Then fucking tell them. Prove it to them that you're not just a pretty boy. That you're pretty and powerful--God I sounded like a quoted an SNSD song," and now Taeyong was laughing and Yuta was laughing and Yuta had wrapped an arm around Taeyong's shoulder and repeatedly said, "You're pretty amazing. Pretty cool. Pretty good dancer. Pretty good rapper. Pretty good pretty good pretty good--"_

__

A knock on the door breaks the dramatic memory montage train in his head, and he turns to the door and sees Doyoung, and 

_Yuta?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uishtheatj i am sorry? for the cliffhanger? but Yutae interaction on the way???/


	4. you are sick, and you're married, and you might be dying, but you're holding me like water in your hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so I'm back, also tw for heavy depressive thoughts, drug and alcohol use and basic angst.
> 
> There's only one update left, and I might add one chapter as an epilogue. Let's see what my procrastinating ass cooks up.
> 
> Title is pretty long, it's from Moon Song by Phoebe Bridgers.

Doyoung enters the room first, and Taeyong knows Doyoung knows that his eyes are on Yuta. Yuta is still at the door, looking at him, and Taeyong feels his heart slip and fall into the hollow emptiness inside his chest. If this were a movie, there'd be dramatic violas playing and there'd be a crash somewhere. If this were a manhwa, he'd start coughing out flowers on the floor. If this were a stupid late night show, there'd be a laugh track playing to gloss over the insensitive joke. But it's neither of them, so there's a frigid silence between them, and he hopes Yuta can't see the panic on his face.

He stands up on autopilot and tells them to sit and sees Doyoung 's face cloud with something closely resembling panic and helplessness. He offers his best friend a tight grin and turns to Yuta, who is staring at him with something in his eyes that he doesn't understand, and he chokes out, "You guys wait here for a second, I'll be back."

And he runs through the corridor, till he sees Miya standing with a latte in her hands, and she isn't shocked to see him running towards her.

"Why'd you let them see me?", he says, he isn't short of breath, he is a fucking idol, but he wishes he was, "I asked Mr. Kim to not let anyone but Doyoung see me, didn't I?"

"Kim Doyoung and Nakamoto Yuta pleaded with me for an hour to let them see you. An hour. I didn't want to let them off easy, Taeyong. Nakamoto said he wouldn't leave the set if you didn't show yourself. I even texted you, but you probably didn't check your phone."

There's an air of finality in her voice, but god, he is desperate.

"I don't know how to face them. I don't know how. I only asked for Doyoung to be allowed. And that too not on sets. Please make an excuse for me. Please tell them that I will be busy."

She is staring at him with that unreadable expression again, and Taeyong urges, "Do something."

"Taeyong, they're your bandmates. Nakamoto is your bandmate. They deserve something from you, not radio silence. You will have to go back to them. You can't keep running from them," and then she turns away from him. He knows that the conversation is over.

And he knows, he knows she isnt wrong, and now that she has turned away from him, with an air of finality, he decides to trudge back to the dressing room, and he knows, he knows this isn't going to end well.

...

When he stumbles back into the room, he finds Yuta standing in the corner, in front of the costume rack with his back to the doorway and Doyoung is nowhere to be seen. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of Taeyong's stomach because he knows being alone in a room with Yuta, now, is the equivalent of diving into an ocean knowing that your body's only memory of swimming is from a time you hadn't learned the meaning of drowning. And he doesn't want to face Yuta, but he is standing right there, and Taeyong can't run away.

So he walks over to his chair facing the mirror, and sits, making the smallest noise, hoping it's loud enough for Yuta to know he's there, and praying that it's soft enough for Yuta to not notice him. But Yuta hears him.

Yuta turns to him, and fuck, Taeyong has missed him so much, he wants to touch him desperately, tell himself that Yuta is real, but he can't, of course he can't.

"You didn't come back to the dorms."

His voice isn't accusatory, but Taeyong knows Yuta isn't just throwing a statement at him, he wants an explanation. 

"Things got a little bit stressful."

"So stressful that you didn't show up for two weeks?"

They're staring at each other, and Taeyong feels the need for answers. Any answer. He doesn't have a single one, but he needs one. Immediately. He can't stop himself before he hears himself saying, "Where's Doyoung?"

"He went back to the dorms. I wanted to talk to you. Alone."

"What–what do you want to talk about?"

"You're asking me that?"

Taeyong can't bear to look at Yuta now. He stares at the mirror, and the yellow lights framing it, and he is hoping that his silence is an answer, any answer, he doesn't want to talk to Yuta. He doesn't want to disappoint Yuta. He doesn't know what is the right answer.

"Taeyong, you can't keep quiet. You've given us silence for so many days and you can't just–you can't just keep quiet. Do you know how many texts I sent you? Do you know how many times i called you? Do you know that how worried Johnny was when you sent that text? Do you know that Mark refused to eat for three days straight because you didn't call? or text? You gave us nothing but silence. I kept begging Doyoung to tell me where you were and turns out, you had told him to not tell us anything. Why?"

Taeyong feels like someone has placed a sponge down his throat, and he can't get a sound out of his mouth. So he stares at himself in the mirror, and the cherry blossoms on his chest. 

"You just, you just disappeared. From all our lives. The pictures came out and you gave us nothing but radio silence. I was so fucking worried, worrying every single day where you were, and how you were. I asked Mr Kim and he said you didn't even want to talk to us. How do you think that made us feel? made me feel? Years and years of knowing each other, and something happens to you and you just? disappear? Every single day, every single day i saw Doyoung getting more and more worried. Do you know what you put him through? Do you have any clue? a single clue?"

Taeyong counts the roses on his head. 1 2 3 4 5. He can feel his eyes burning.

"Didn't you trust us? Did you think we would hate you for liking men? Did you feel unsafe around us? Did you think we would hate you for who you are? Is that how you see us? You could have left, but you could have told us something. I felt so–I felt so helpless. All my life, i thought we didn't just consider each other band mates. This isn't just a job.We aren't just colleagues. We aren't fucking coworkers."

Taeyong grabs the lipstick and rubs his thumb on its head. Every word Yuta says is a hammer to the heart. And he can't, he can't, he can't.

"You are supposed to trust us. Fuck, Taeyongie, don't you trust us?"

His thumb is red now. He rolls the tip across his hand.

"Why couldn't you come to us? why'd you do this to us? Why? WHY?"

The tip breaks.

"Why didn't you just say something?"

"Because of you."

Taeyong is standing now, and he looks Yuta in the eye.

"I didn't go because I couldn't face you."

He can't hear the frigidity of his own voice. But Yuta can. 

"I didn't go because I didn't want to face you."

"Me?"

Taeyong walks over to Yuta, and presses his lipstick stained hands against his cheek.

"You never noticed, huh?"

Taeyong keeps rubbing his hands against Yuta's cheeks. Yuta is staring right into his eyes.

"You never noticed how I would give everything for you, right? You never noticed I would literally give up everything for you. You never fucking noticed that I – that I– loved you, didn't you? You talk about how this is supposed to be a team and how you couldn't see the other members suffering because of me but did you ever even think of me? What i went through? How I felt? Ever since you turned up here, you kept on saying I should have gone to you. And told you what? That I love you? That everything off this album is about you?," Taeyong points at his chest at the cherry blossom drawings and says, "You see these cherry blossoms, these are for you. Everything is for you. All the songs, about you. And now you know, don't you? You were so hell-bent on finding out why. And now you know–you know why. Everything. Is. Always. About. You. And i can't even blame you for not noticing. God fucking dammit."

Taeyong turns away from him and walks to the mirror and looks at himself. His hair is perfectly in place. The roses and the halo crown are all perfectly in place. And his hands itch to take them all off and show Yuta his insides. God, if people could take off their skins and show them every little bit of hurt pressed between the bones and muscles, he'd have done that. He would have shown Yuta that his insides felt like someone had worn six inch heels and proceeded to dance on them. 

"And you know the sadder part? I don't even have anything to blame you for. I wish you were an asshole with a stick up your ass. I wish you were terrible, and mean, and bad so that I could blame you for this, but you know what, Nakamoto Yuta, you're always nice. You are always so fucking nice. I could tell myself that you broke my heart. That none of this was my fucking fault, but now," and he walks over to Yuta and looks at the red lipstick stains he has left on the latter's cheeks and Taeyong's voice is hoarse, "Look at me. Look at me now Nakamoto Yuta. I can't even blame you. Or anyone else. I did this to myself. The only person who broke my heart was me. The only person who fucking broke my heart was me. All of this, all of this, I have done this to – to myself. There's no one responsible for this mess besides me. And you know what it feels like, knowing that you are the only one person who is responsible for your own fucking downfall? It hurts like a fucking bitch."

Taeyong's panting. He looks into the mirror and he knows this is a trick of the light but his reflection seems to be smirking at him now.

_Look at yourself. Look at yourself now. You're such a mess._

_Who would have thought, Lee Taeyong, SM's prince, all round performer extraordinaire would have ended up like this?_

_Look at yourself._

"God, what didn't I do to cope. I even snorted cocaine, god. Had my face pushed onto the toilet seat and got fucked by three guys. Didn't numb the pain. I tried drinking too. Tried to get myself piss drunk so that all I wouldn't even remember your fucking name for one night. And when nothing fucking worked, I stopped. This–this horrible fucking feeling wouldn't leave me anyway. And I would still be willing to fucking die for you. God, what did I even do to myself? I even took myself to a therapist and she tried her best with me but it didn't even work. It didn't fucking work. Nothing fucking works."

Yuta says nothing and Taeyong feels angry. He feels so angry that he wishes he could decimate himself. Would Yuta pick up his pieces then? He hates this silence. He hates it loathes it he wants to destroy it.

"What happened? Why are you quiet now? You wanted answers didn't you? Well here you go. Here you go, Yuta. Call me stupid for falling for you. I do that every single day, you know. Here you fucking go, Yuta."

His eyes are blurry and he knows he's going to cry and in the back of his head, he wonders if he looks like the tragic protagonist from the art hoe films Doyoung likes to watch. Halo crown, roses, cherry blossoms and red lipstick hands is something that would make for a good movie clip poets would pluck out and quote in their poetry books.

He can't bear to look at Yuta, and now he realizes he's walked over the wall. He is sliding down against the wall. His eyes are so blurry with tears but he doesn't want to cry. The makeup artists worked on his eyes for two hours, and he doesn't want to be a bitch to people who don't deserve it.

"Taeyong–"

There's something in Yuta's voice that he doesn't recognize. He doesn't want to, at this point. He feels his voice in his throat, throbbing, and he wants to sleep now. He is on the floor and he wants to sleep.

"Taeyongie, you–"

"Leave."

His voice is hoarse and he can feel the splinters down his neck and this time, he says it louder, "Leave. LEAVE. Leave me alone. Leave me alone Yuta. Leave me alone and pretend that this never happened. And then we will act like things are normal. Forget this. LEAVE. "

He closes his eyes. He doesn't want the tears to slip and fall. He mumbles the word "leave" like this is the end of a videogame, and the player has just lost. Game Over. Leave. Game Over. Leave.

And then he feels two arms around him, hugging him and he feels Yuta around him. His plaid soft shirt. His hair brushing across Taeyong's neck. His perfume, a gift from Taeyong himself. He wonders how they look now. A boy in a halo crown and cherry blossoms across his body trying not to cry in the embrace of a boy in a plaid shirt with lipstick stains all over his face. A boy in a halo crown and diamond earrings mumbling into another boy's collar, begging him to leave.

The lipstick boy kisses his forehead and tightens his arms around the body of the halo crown boy. 

The lipstick boy holds the halo crown boy as a stray tear slides down through the glitter tears on his cheek.

The lipstick boy holds the halo crown boy as he makes himself small and hides in his plaid shirt, and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, i love seeing your comments and every single person leaving hearts. Also, if you have bookmarked this, you can take my left lung.
> 
> also, therapy does work for a lot of people, but at the same time, it doesn't work for many. Speaking from personal experience here. 
> 
> One more update left, hang on.
> 
> I love you, bye!


	5. your touch, my comfort and my lullaby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter? last Chapter.
> 
> thanks for sticking with me till now.
> 
> title from Ease, by Troye Sivan.

>Sometimes, in life, you meet people, who do not feel permanent. People who are in-betweens. People who do not leave you, yet do not stay either. Autumn-esque, in many ways, the cold isn't enough to numb you well, and the warmth isn't enough for you to walk around in your summer vests. They could hug you and you would feel their absence. A ghost of their own selves. Leaving traces of themselves behind, but not tangible enough to locate them if they ever disappear. Nakamoto Yuta, all through his life, has tried to be that person. Made himself invisible enough for people to not wreak havoc if he disappears, and visible enough for people to not forget him absolutely. Kept too many pieces of himself safe inside his own fists for people to know him, and given enough for people to not perceive him as an unattached asshole. He likes this sense of floating. Ukiyo. Floating world, that's what he's built for himself.

When he was a kid, he'd been too bright. Painted nails, fake tattoo stamps and neon clothes. His mother would tie his hair into tiny ponytails, singing under her breath, in their backyard. It had always been like that. Just him, and her. They'd been happy. They were so happy. And then she'd married the man. His step dad. He doesn't even remember his name. The man always pressed him to call him Dad. And Yuta'd agreed, because he knew his mom would be happy if he did. He didn't mind having him around, his step dad. And then he'd had a sister and his mother forgot about him. He still remembers their late birthday wishes. He still remembers the missed annual days. He remembers everything. So he'd started making himself invisible. The neon clothes and fake tattoos and painted nails were gone, and he'd made things easier like that. More convenient. On some days, when his mother remembers him, and calls, he listens to her tell him about things he doesn't even know about. The backyard is gone anyway, they live in a big house in Tokyo City, now.

He's been teetering on the edge of things that could change his life, since then. He had dated people, but never loved them. He had written songs, but never submitted them. He had held his friends but never promised he'd stay forever. It was nice, like this, staying aloof. It was comfortable. It was safe.

And then there'd been Lee Taeyong. He wasn't in love with Taeyong. Never. He'd never let himself. Taeyong had been his first friend. They'd been scrawny teenagers, laughing and sweating their asses off in the practice rooms and crying together in bathroom stalls. When Yuta had made into the final lineup, Taeyong had been so happy that he'd hugged him throughout the day. Taeyong and him, they'd sit in bathrooms and get high and smoke and talk about books. There'd always been Taeyong. Taeyong, the boy who had held him when his sister got diagnosed with cancer. Yuta still thinks about that day. Taeyong hadn't known that half of Yuta's tears were out of guilt and not sadness. He had always been so distant to his sister, and now she was dying, in a hospital and he couldn't even see her. He didn't know what he would do if he saw her, though. Maybe he'd apologise, maybe he'd hold her hand. Taeyong hadn't known this, but he'd held him and whispered that things would be okay, and said it so convincingly that Yuta had latched on to those words. Taeyong was always there, looking at Yuta like he wasn't a mere smoke signal for better things in the future. Looking at Yuta like he existed.

But he'd stopped himself. He'd looked at Taeyong and stopped himself from falling in love. Taeyong had always been beautiful. And Yuta would probably admit at gunpoint that he had let his eyes linger on the latter's body and lips for a little too long. But he'd never let himself fall for Taeyong. Taeyong deserved better than someone who was a ghost of himself. Taeyong didn't deserve someone who was a walking memory. And Taeyong wouldn't ever love someone like Yuta back anyway. Falling in love with Taeyong, would mean setting himself for getting his heart hit by nunchucks, and he wasn't really ready for that. Falling in love, in general, would mean wanting attention, and he'd tried that once as a kid, and now all he wanted to be was invisible. Melting into the walls till they didn't notice he wasn't there. Falling in love was walking out of the comfort zone he'd managed to build out of the blocks of distance he'd placed between himself and everyone around him. Falling in love would mean being unsafe.

And yet, Taeyong had loved him. Taeyong had loved him and fallen in love with him. Now, with the boy asleep in his arms, all he wonders is how Taeyong had noticed him. Yuta had done his best to be aloof. He'd let the company reduce his existence to his ships with Mark and Sicheng. He'd bluffed his way through interviews saying the same shit about friendship for different people everytime he'd been asked how close he was to them. Yet, Taeyong had loved him. As Taeyong sleeps, halo crown askew, all Yuta can think of is how in the attempts of not being noticed, he'd not noticed the the former. He wouldn't have hurt Taeyong like this then. The shittiest wounds you create are the ones you do unconsciously, because there's no apology to fill up the gaping skin. 

Yuta remembers the first boy he had made out with and fucked. The boy had been soft. He hadn't. And then he'd not texted back when the same boy had asked him if they could meet. Yuta wonders how many people have been scared of the ghost he'd made himself into. 

And then Taeyong stirs in his arms and he thinks of the last time he had felt this need to protect, this need to keep someone safe besides himself. He looks at Taeyong, pretty amazing pretty good Taeyong, in his arms, curled up into a tiny ball, and all he wants to do is keep him safe. All he wants is to ease the pain he has etched out over the years. All he wants to do...is love him.

So he kisses Taeyong's hair once again, and closes his eyes, and decides to fall.

6 months later.

Miya stands in the gallery and watches the Neo Zone concert in Seoul. There are seas of green lightsticks around her, and she watches Taeyong walk on stage, decked in pink, and she thinks of everything that had happened in these months.

The number of pills she had to take for her headaches had skyrocketed, and her weed dealer had asked her what was wrong. Very pathetic, indeed. 

The day Taeyong had asked her to make Nakamoto leave, she'd known that he was in love with him. And then Nakamoto had spent three hours in Taeyong's dressing room, and she had known shit was going down. Taeyong had given her a tired grin and proceeded to shoot after Nakamoto had left. Taeyong hadn't said anything to her that day, and she recalls him holding her hand in the car again. 

And then Nakamoto had started showing up. On sets, in cafés, almost everywhere Taeyong had schedules. Taeyong seemed hesitant at first, and then he'd started smiling more. God, she thinks, when did I even start noticing all these things? Nakamoto started holding hands with Lee Taeyong and all that she'd felt was intense skepticism. The guy had a smile too wide and nice, and she remembers wanting to punch him in the gut. 

And then they'd had that conversation, the day she'd walked in on the two kissing.

_  
"Lee Taeyong isn't your pity project, Nakamoto?"_

_Nakamoto had been intimidated, of course. She towered over him, and she had hoped that the resting bitch face thing that Jihan often told her she had, wasn't just Jihan bluffing shit to excuse the employees fear for her._

_"What?"_

_"You know exactly what I mean, Nakamoto. Taeyong had been bawling his eyes out over you not loving him, and now suddenly you look like the perfect partner."_

_"He isn't my pity project."_

_"And yet you've suddenly started loving him. Out of nowhere. He isn't your feel good points or your guilt aversion technique for his current condition, Nakamoto"_

_"Look, I–"_

_"No no no, don't even try to justify yourself. People don't fall in love the moment they come to know someone's in love with them. Don't make promises you can't keep."_

_"Believe me, I really–"_

_"You love him?"_

_Nakamoto had stayed quiet, and she'd wanted to slap his silence out of his mouth._

_"See, you can't even say it. Leave the poor kid alone before you fuck with something you can't fix."_  
  
_"Why are you so invested in this anyway? Aren't you his temporary manager who didn't even want to work with him in the first place?" Nakamoto had asked, and she had been thrown off for a moment. She hated questions like this. Questions that she had answers to, but could never speak them into existence because that would mean bringing up shit that should be flushed down and forgotten about.  
  
"It's simple. I care for the kid. And because I have enough common sense to know that whatever you've been doing might end up terribly."  
  
And then Nakamoto had taken her hands into his, and said, "Everybody loves at different paces, noona", and smiled at her.  
  
She had not smiled back, but she hadn't shoved him away either. _

As the intro to Cherry Blossoms under My Bed starts playing, she thinks about how well the album had done. It had managed to rake up good critical reviews and the public response had been amazing. The kid had hugged her and asked her to treat him to dinner. Nakamoto had been there, every single music show, in the crowd, and had pointedly ignored her scathing stares and smiled at her instead. She would never admit it, even if someone threatened her with daggers, of course, but she had prayed that the kid didn't get his heart broken all over again. Lee Taeyong didn't deserve another knife to his chest. And she didn't deserve to see another blue bloated face. She didn't know what was going through Nakamoto's head, but she didn't want this to be an elaborate ruse to ease Taeyong for the time being. The music cuts in, and she stares at the stage, and watches the kid in pink sing the song she hasn't really been able to hate, despite listening to it more times these 6 months than that one Lorde song she plays at 4 am every night. Lee Taeyong, SM Entertainment's very own punching bag, sings and there's silence in the jam packed stadium. And Miya, who never remembers lyrics to any song, finds herself mouthing the word. 

_I haven't slept for months now,  
The flowers wake me up,  
I got so used to them,  
I can't breathe without them, somehow.  
I don't remember when they started,  
growing in there, replacing the monsters  
and if I could, go back, would i cut them  
or would I let them haunt me all over?  
_

_Because you always have been,  
the cherry blossoms under my bed,  
and you always will, love me, in my head,  
and you, always have been,  
the cherry blossoms under my bed,  
and you, always will, love me, in my head.  
_

Taeyong sits midstage, cross-legged, and he has got the cherry blossoms painted over his chest and that halo crown and he fits them, or they fit him. If it were someone else, Miya would have labelled it pretentious and called it a night, but there's something about the kid that makes all that art hoe stuff look good on him.

_and I wish, I wish you would sucker punch  
me in the gut,  
and maybe then,  
i would spit out blood instead of love,  
_

_and I wish, I wish I could remove them,  
or go under and sleep amidst them,  
but all I do is cut my fingers and  
pry all the old wounds open,  
_

_Because you, you are the cherry blossoms  
under my bed,  
and you, you always will  
love me in my head.  
_

There's a sudden wave of cheer from the audience and Miya looks at the stage, and notices the rest of the members of 127 walk onto the stage, and Taeyong is looking at them with glassy eyes. And they sit down in a line with Taeyong at the centre, slowly, and she watches Nakamoto sit beside him, and clasp his hand. And she watches them all sing the last verse, while Taeyong's head rests on Nakamoto's shoulder, eyes closed, as the crowd watches them.

_and i want to love you, love you a little less,  
but if you asked, i would give you ,everything i have made,  
you are an artist of the floating world,  
and i want to keep you safe in my chest.  
_

__

__

And I want to love you, love you a little less,  
but holding on is the thing I do best,  
you are an artist of the floating world,  
and i want to keep you safe in my chest.  


_Because you are the cherry blossoms under my bed,  
Because you, love me only in my head.  
_

And the song is supposed to end there, but Nakamoto croons into the mic, 

_and it's 5 am, your eyes are bloodshot,  
and you think it exists in someplace else,  
not outside your head, never outside your head,   
but here are all the Band-Aids for the sucker punches,  
the hands soothing your bloody scalp,  
sugar candy sweeteners for sour breaths,  
baby, the cherry blossoms are crawling out,  
they'll lull you to sleep instead,  
the cherry blossoms are crawling out,  
and they'll lull you to sleep instead,  
baby, the cherry blossoms are crawling out,  
they'll lull you to sleep instead.  
_

There's applause, and she sees the kid smile at Nakamoto, and she knows the fans probably think this is fanservice, this is another little publicity stunt to trigger 13 year olds into writing smutty fanfiction on Wattpad, but she knows this isn't just that. It had taken 7 days for Miya to realise Lee Taeyong was in love with Nakamoto Yuta. It takes a lot more for her to know that Nakamoto is in love with the former. But then everyone loves at their own pace, as the bastard had said, and she chooses to believe it.

The last verse shouldn't have fit, but it does, in all it's disjointedness, in all it's chaos, awkward puzzle pieces from different sets, fitting together and no logic as explanation, besides wild luck and perhaps, perhaps, love, and so she chooses to believe it, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, this is the end of this story, and this was a lot of self projection and mixed emotions and at one point i had wanted to kill off Taeyong for the sake of it, but thank[puppyeolie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppyeolie/pseuds/puppyeolie) for not letting me do that and giving y'all a happy ending. Check out her works for her amazing NCT and EXO fanfics. 
> 
> [Also, here is a journal entry she made and damn is it gorgeous.](https://drive.google.com/file/d/18Q5HjAERQgrVqRixSc29d1cgWNjXa4S2/view?usp=sharing)
> 
> As you could see, all the characters had all their issues, and i know all humans aren't like this, but as a Gen Z individual, i couldn't help but make them struggle lol.
> 
> I love reading your comments and if you're reccing this, you can take my left lung, as I have said before.
> 
> I actually changed Yuta's verse a little today (26.1.21), and if you're rereading this (god, i hope not), you might find that different, and I added an extra paragraph, because it had been bugging me a little, the ending. It was nice, but not like, nice nice. So I guess that's what's good, and I hope you're all doing well. 
> 
> Bye, you deserve everything you've loved till today, and more. 
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
